


These Hands

by cmere



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Dealing With Trauma, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Post-The Raven King, Pre-Epilogue, desperate handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:41:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23071147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmere/pseuds/cmere
Summary: Adam and Ronan, trying to figure out how to move on with their lives, find comfort in each other.
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 18
Kudos: 195





	These Hands

**Author's Note:**

> I finished a reread of TRC and was IMMEDIATELY inspired to write my first fic for this fandom! I hope you enjoy! Thanks so much to longleggedgit for the beta.

It’s been a number of days since That Day, which is the only way Adam is allowing himself to think about it. Anytime anything more descriptive (like The Day Gansey Died or The Day Ronan Was Almost Unmade or The Day I—No, The Demon Tried To Kill Ronan With My Bare Hands) pops into his head, his hands start to shake. He doesn’t like the feeling, because it makes him feel like his hands aren’t his own. And that’s been the one thing he’s wanted to feel sure of, since That Day.

Adam and Ronan haven’t spent a night apart since That Day. They’ve slept at the Barns and at St. Agnes, curled up with each other like wet leaves stuck together on the forest floor. They haven’t talked much about it, because in their young lives they’ve both become experts at repressing trauma, and though this experience was an awful one—a big, awful, horrifying, and singularly traumatic event, in more ways than one—they’ve already put their coping skills to work the only way they know how. Compartmentalize. Bury. Ignore. Forget. Rinse and repeat. Adam is fully aware that logically, this probably isn’t the healthiest way to approach things, but his survival has never had anything to do with his health. He quite literally could not live with himself if he thought deeply about the ramifications of his fingers squeezing the air out of Ronan’s body. So he doesn’t.

Today, a little over a week since That Day, Adam feels...different. There is something restless and needy simmering under his skin. It’s a marked change from the emptiness that has consumed him, the perfunctory performance of going through the motions, trying to get back to normal when there is no normal anymore. It’s only at night, clinging to Ronan’s back with his eyes squeezed shut, pretending they’re both asleep when they both know they’re not, that he’s been feeling this...uneasiness, this gaping sense of something _more_. But today, Adam’s already feeling it when he picks up a double shift at Boyd’s. It prickles at him all afternoon, until he’s ready to crawl out of his skin.

Adam arrives back at St. Agnes late, covered in grease, soreness seeping into his muscles. He finds Ronan sitting on the top step outside his door, head in his hands. He looks up as he sees Adam approaching.

“Parrish. You too?”

Adam can only assume Ronan is referring to the expression on his face, which he hadn’t even tried to hide. He steps past Ronan to unlock the door.

“C’mon.”

As always, Ronan looks awkward and overly large in his space with its slanted ceilings and small, claustrophobic feel. Adam rubs his forehead, realizing belatedly that he’s left yet another grease mark there by doing so. 

“You didn’t need to work today.” Ronan looks at him.

“I always need to work. What the hell else would I have done? Spent the day fucking around the Barns with you?” Adam looks back, annoyed. He pulls his shirt over his head. “I’m going to take a shower. Try not to burn the place down.”

By the time he emerges, feeling at least clean in an old t-shirt and sweatpants, Ronan has made himself at home, stretched out on Adam’s mattress, boots kicked off. He holds his hands behind his head, eyes closed, tapping his feet to the bass Adam can hear coming out of his headphones. Adam’s irritation softens as he looks at him.

Ronan is feeling it, too. Ronan came to him hoping Adam would make him feel better, not worse. Even if he would never ask for it.

The old mattress creaks as Adam lays himself down next to Ronan, like a sigh that’s been held in too long. Ronan’s eyes blink open. His face looks soft and unguarded for approximately half a second before he sneers, pulling off his headphones.

“Feel better, princess?”

Adam rolls his eyes. The music is blaring even louder now.

“Can you turn that shit off?”

Ronan looks rebellious but obliges. Adam doesn’t try to fill the silence. He watches Ronan, restlessness still thrumming just beneath his skin. He doesn’t know what it means, or how to stop it. He thinks of the rustling of the trees in Cabeswater. He thinks of Gansey’s bees. He thinks of Gansey, lifeless on the side of the road.

“Don’t,” Ronan says, interrupting his thoughts.

“Don’t what?” Adam swallows.

“Just fucking don’t,” Ronan says again, then kisses him. Adam realizes suddenly that maybe Ronan came here hoping to make _him_ feel better, not the other way around. _Oh._

Adam lets Ronan push him down into the mattress, lets Ronan kiss him until he’s breathless. Ronan’s stubble is as sharp as his teeth sinking into Adam’s lip. It brings Adam right into the present, into this moment, Ronan’s hands clutching his face, leather bands pressed against his cheeks, Ronan’s weight warm and heavy on Adam’s chest.

Ronan pulls back slightly, eyes on Adam’s. He looks too vulnerable; the raw intensity of it slithers down Adam’s spine. Adam wants to reach up and kiss him again, but he waits.

“This isn’t a dream,” Ronan says, quiet, reflective. It’s not a question, but it feels like he’s waiting for a response.

“This isn’t a dream,” Adam agrees. He touches Ronan’s neck gently, intentionally, and tells himself that he can. That these are his hands, and he’s in control of them, and they would not try to hurt Ronan. Even if the muscle memory of them tells him that they would, and they have.

Adam is not a demon’s hands and eyes, anymore. He’s not even Cabeswater’s hands and eyes, anymore. They are his and his alone.

Ronan leans down. “Don’t,” he whispers again. Adam feels the puff of air on his lips. Their noses brush; their foreheads connect. Ronan’s blue eyes are blurry, this close, but that’s how it’s supposed to be.

Adam surges up and presses their mouths together. Ronan makes a choked noise in response. He kisses Adam back urgently, full of need—or is this urgency, this need coming from Adam? Ronan’s fingers slide behind his ears, press into his skull. They had kissed before That Day, but it had been joyous, dreamlike, almost euphoric. They have kissed since That Day, but it has been brief, exhausted, anguished. This feels so different.

Adam is tired, yes, but the normal kind that comes from a day of hard, physical work, not the all-consuming, overwhelming kind that seeks to drag you underwater. Ronan’s touch is lighting him up inside, making him feel electric down to the base of his spine. Ronan puts so much of himself into the things he cares about, and all of that is focused on Adam right now. And god, Adam _wants_.

Adam lets his fingers slip down Ronan’s chest, his sides. He finds the hem of Ronan’s t-shirt with his hands and pushes them underneath, feeling the skin there. Ronan’s stomach quivers under his touch and he presses into Adam that much more desperately, tongue deep in Adam’s mouth.

Adam’s fingers crawl under the waistband of Ronan’s jeans, and Ronan moans before Adam has even touched him. Adam feels a surge of power, knowing his hands are what’s making Ronan feel this good. He’s rooted in this moment, hyperaware of every physical sensation rushing through him, from his head to the tips of his toes. Ronan’s jeans are tight, the fabric impeding Adam’s hand from moving farther. Ronan’s kissing him sloppily, wet and hot. Ronan’s fingers rub into his neck, pressing against the sore muscle, until Ronan mumbles, “Fuck this,” into Adam’s mouth and reaches down to unfasten his jeans.

Adam surprises himself by laughing; he’s even more surprised when Ronan laughs gruffly too. His fingers slide down and find Ronan hard and waiting for him. Adam had thought he felt powerful before, but the feeling of his palm around Ronan’s dick is amplified by the gasp that escapes Ronan’s lips, and he thinks that this is a kind of magic, too.

Adam jerks Ronan awkwardly, trying to find a good rhythm even though he’s trapped in Ronan’s boxers. He can’t, really, but the sounds coming out of Ronan’s mouth make it seem like it’s the best thing ever, anyway. Ronan has stopped kissing him and just hangs there, breathing hard, his groans vibrating against Adam’s lips. Adam opens his eyes to find Ronan’s squeezed shut, his brow furrowed, his expression reverent. Adam feels that look in his body like a shuddering release.

Adam is so focused on what he’s doing, on watching Ronan’s face, on the desperate noises and rough curses escaping Ronan’s lips, he doesn’t even realize Ronan’s hand has moved again until he feels leather at the waistband of his sweatpants. He’s shocked for a second at the intensity of the arousal that shoots through him. Ronan doesn’t hesitate, just slips his hand down to grip Adam too, and the pure pleasure of it rushes through Adam like a gale-force wind.

Their lips touch. Ronan sighs, _“Adam,”_ an exhalation, overlapping Adam’s sharp and stuttered inhalation, “Ronan.” Breathing him in. The restless thrumming has turned into a buzz of stimulation, his skin sensitive everywhere Ronan touches it. Adam realizes that after That Day, he thought maybe he could never have this, not really. Thought he could never trust himself to be in control of his own body again, or that Ronan could never trust him. The fact that Ronan is here now, letting Adam touch him however he wants and touching him back, is nothing short of a fucking miracle.

When Ronan comes, he lets out a groan, then kisses Adam hard despite the fact that neither of them can really breathe. Ronan doesn’t let up until Adam has come too, hot and trembling and gasping, his hips thrusting up as his back arches off the mattress. Ronan has pulled back to look at him, and Adam marvels at the tenderness and wonder in Ronan’s eyes, at the fact that he gets to see it.

Adam pulls his hand out of Ronan’s boxers, and Ronan pulls his hand out of Adam’s sweatpants. Ronan falls onto his back, panting, eyes closed. Adam is warm all over. His body feels calm, settled. Ronan looks at him; Adam looks back. He’s able to exist exactly as he is with Ronan, no awkward searching for words or fumbling declarations of feeling. They don’t have to say anything unnecessary, so they don’t.

After what feels like forever of them gazing at each other, blinking lazily, Adam’s heartbeat pounding in his ear, Ronan’s expression changes to a grimace. “You can take my pants off next time, Parrish.”

A wide smile crosses Adam’s face before he can help it. He’s suddenly unbearably grateful for Ronan shattering the intensity of the moment. “You should talk. These were clean.”

Ronan stretches, languid, arms above his head. “Have anything else I can put on for the night?” Adam points at the stack of plastic bins in the corner. Something weird grips his chest as he thinks about Ronan in his clothes, Ronan in his bed, Ronan wanting to stay.

“Top one. Get me some, too.” 

After they’ve cleaned up and changed, they fall back into bed. Ronan immediately burrows into Adam’s back, his mouth pressed against Adam’s spine, one arm tucked over Adam’s ribs. Adam closes his eyes and waits for the normal, frenzied rush of thoughts to enter his brain, the ones he has to methodically pick apart and tamp down, but they don’t. His mind is blissfully blank, focused on nothing but the feel of Ronan curled around him, the gentle, pleasant throb between his legs, Ronan’s breath on the shell of his ear.

“Night, Parrish,” Ronan murmurs, and Adam can tell from the way he says it that for the first time since That Day, Ronan’s not even worried about falling asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are amazing. I'm on [tumblr!](https://omgcmere.tumblr.com/)


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